Random Tuesday
by MrKlortho
Summary: Did you hear the one about the two guys in the bar, telling random stories?


Title: Random Tuesday

Author: Mr. Klortho

Rating: Teen

Summary: Did you hear the one about two guys sitting in a bar, telling their best stories?

A/N: I know I said I wasn't going to post anything for a while, but I'm a big fat liar. This is a quick pointless story that just popped into my head.

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter. At all. Not even a little bit.

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On a random Tuesday in the back of a random wizard bar in downtown London, there could be found two gentlemen sitting at a table, enjoying a beer. They had been sitting near the back room for the last hour, simply chatting away while giving the impression that they had done this many times before.

These two gentlemen had the misfortune of being waited on by Glenda. She was the most grizzled and veteran of all the waitresses in the 'Leaky Cauldron'. With a face for wireless and a disposition to match, she was best known for having a solid twenty seven years of mildly successful to borderline deplorable service under her belt. She was the only waitress working that night, and made her displeasure of this fact known to all in the bar.

She especially didn't like serving the two gentlemen at the table near the back room. Her feeling was that men drinking as much as they were should be tipping her more and more as the evening went on. She even did her best to seem 'pleasant', but even that trick was failing her tonight. The fact that these two could seem to hold their liquor meant that they weren't going to be parting with their money any time soon.

Every time she came back from the table with two empty pints, she could be heard muttering to Tom the old barkeep, "Pair of nutters those two are."

Tom rolled his eyes. "What are you on about now you old crone?"

"Don't you old crone me you bald-headed buffoon," snapped Glenda. "Those two," she said while pointing back with no discretion towards the two gentlemen, "the tall, lanky ginger and the 'American' with the eye patch."

She said the word 'American' like something foul had just crawled out of her mouth.

"I don't see -" said Tom, before he stopped abruptly as he DID see who she was talking about. "Blimey, do you know who that is? That's Ron Weasley!"

"The one with that did that thing with Harry Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Well," said Glenda with disdain, "you would think a hero like him could tip better. I got mouths to feed."

"Right," Tom said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "just because you eat enough for two people, don't mean you got more than one mouth!"

Glenda's eyes narrowed. "One of these days," she said while poking Tom in the chest, "I'm just not gonna come in, and you can fend for yourself with all the drunks and troublemakers, how would you like that?"

Tom through up his hands in exasperation. "Oh Merlin, don't get my heart in a tizzy. I've been praying for that day for twenty seven years!"

Glenda ignored his last statement.

She also ignored the multiple tables trying to get her attention to put in a drink order.

"Well, who's that other fella with him? I never seen him before."

Tom started wiping off glasses behind the bar. "Don't know. Never seen him before either."

Glenda made a noise of irritation. "Well I don't like him. Something about his look says he's trouble. Plus he's American, and you know how I hate bloody Yanks"

"You think everyone's trouble, and you hate everybody."

Glenda fired back, "Don't you start with me! Just last week, what did I tell you? I said that group of French wizards was trouble, and what happened? We had to call the MLE before they destroyed the pub. I'm still pulling splinters out of my arse!"

"That's cause you poured a pint of bitter on one of their heads," yelled Tom.

"He was getting fresh with me!"

"No one's gotten fresh with you since 1947!"

Glenda threw her dirty rag at Tom. "Just you wait, one of these days!" She turned around and saw no less than twenty two people trying to get her attention.

"I'm going on break," she snarled as she walked out the back door, slamming it behind her.

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"Jeez," Xander Harris said as he turned back towards the table from watching the commotion, "and I thought I got bad service when I told that cabbie I could only pay him in travelers checks."

Ron took another drink of beer. "Oh thats just Glenda. She's not so bad after awhile." He added, "There's a secret to handling her, you know."

Xander asked, "What's that?"

"Drink until you pass out. If you're lucky, you'll hit your head on something."

"Sounds genius."

"It's hell the next morning," Ron said, "but at least you don't have to listen to her anymore."

Xander gave a look of understanding. "Ah, insane logic. I know it well." He picked up his Guinness and took a drink. "So getting back to important business. You sure you really want to do this again?"

Ron gave him a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah, why not. It's not like I can actually lose, can I?"

"Ah, the sweet smell of over confidence," said Xander. "The gambling mans most powerful pheromone."

Ron stared at Xander. "Mate, I know we speak the same language and all, but sometimes I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Xander said, "Oh please, I don't come close to you British on the 'huh?' scale. Someone needs to come up with an 'English to English' dictionary."

"Yeah, well, just watch what you say next time. I don't need a repeat of what happened last month after that Ministry banquet."

"That wasn't my fault," Xander said in exasperation.

Ron's face colored. "Not your fault? Hermione almost kicked me out of the house when you told her I got pissed with that German bird after she grabbed my arse!"

"I meant you were mad," Xander yelled. "Everyone knew that, except you and your strangely scary wife."

Ron grumbled into his beer, "Quit havin' a go at my wife."

Now it was Xander's turn to stare at him. "Again, I need some sort of book on translations. Even a speak and spell would work."

The table got quiet as the two men slowly sipped their drinks. After a few seconds, Ron put his beer down. "Why are we friends again?"

"Because I'm predisposed to being friends with redheads. That's pretty much it."

The two men went back to quietly drinking. "You know," Ron began, "you did end up getting me out off the hook, which was wicked."

"She liked the basket of fruit then," Xander asked.

"It was mainly the bloke singin' that muggle song while holding the basket of fruit that did it," Ron said.

Xander smiled. "Ah yes, when in doubt, go with the classics. I mean who doesn't tear up when they hear 'Please Take my Apology' as set to The Police's 'Don't Stand so Close to Me'. Works every time."

Ron drowned his beer. "Alright, enough with the talk mate, let's do this. Usual rules?"

"Yep, five of those doubloon thingies to the winner."

"Galleons."

Xander waved him off. "Whatever."

"Alright, and just because I'm a nice guy, I'll let you go first," Ron said.

"Sounds good to me. Okay, here we go. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure," asked Xander.

"Just got on with it."

"Okay. Fine. Once again, here we go. Ummm, I once got beat up by a troll and didn't die."

"Ha, I fought a troll my first year, and we took that bastard down."

"Oooh, big man. I once stared down a master vampire."

"I stared down Professor Snape."

"I led my senior class to fight the mayor, who at the time was turning into a giant snake."

"I helped my school fight Voldemort, who loved his snake a little too much if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, subtle. Anyway, I once used a love spell to try and make my ex jealous, but instead it made every woman want me."

"Okay, uh, that sounds brilliant, actually."

"They wanted me so much they almost killed me. And one almost made me a vamp. And Buffy got turned into a rat."

"Oh"

"Yeah, oh."

"Well I once ate a love potion that was meant for Harry, and I almost died taking the antidote."

"I once stopped an army of zombies from blowing up my school."

"How often DID someone try to blow up your school?"

"More times than you think."

"Fine. Well, I, ah," Ron said as he began to stammer, "I once rode on the back of a dragon to escape Gringotts."

"No," Xander said as he slammed down his pint.

"No what," Ron asked.

"You can't use the dragon story again."

"Why not?"

"Because you do every time!"

"It's a great story!"

"Of course it's a great story," Xander said, his voice raising. "My inner twelve year old with his sword and twenty sided die is doing a dance of geek joy right now. But my twenty four year old self, the one that has money on the line, says that you can't use the dragon story to win the bet."

"Fine," Ron said petulantly. "Okay I once fought a three headed dog."

"Better. I once saved the world - " Xander started.

Ron cut him off before he could continue. "Oh here we go."

"What?"

"If I can't use the dragon story, you sure as hell can't use the 'I saved the world with my love' story"

"Don't try and cheapen my contribution to fighting apocalypses. Or is it apocali? Apocalypsey? Does that sound right?" Xander regained his focus. "Anyway, the point is when you say it like that, it sounds like the plot of a bad porno."

Before their argument could continue, Glenda creaked and lurched her way over to the table.

"What are you two goin' on about," she asked while picking up the empties and startling Ron and Xander.

"It's just a game we play when we're drinking," Ron said.

Xander added, "Yeah, we try an one up each other. See who has the more wacky life."

"How the hell do you tell who wins," Glenda asked while wiping down the table.

Xander and Ron both cringed as her rag was dirtier than anything currently on the table.

"Well," Xander began hesitantly, "it just depends on how drunk we are and when we feel like quitting. We pretty much tell the same stories every time."

"Yeah, and the winner gets five galleons," Ron said.

At the mention of money, Glenda stopped wiping the table and slowly began to look up. "Five galleons you say? Can anyone play, or is it just you two Marys?"

Xander and Ron looked at each other. "Sure," Ron said, "as long as you got a good story."

Glenda peeled her face back in what was the best attempt at a smile she could muster. "Stories I got. Did you ever hear the one about me, a goblin, a mule, and a crate of Ogden's Finest?"

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The pub was almost at full capacity. Tom stood behind the bar, mixing drinks and cleaning glasses.

"MERLINS SAGGY LEFT - !!!"

"SWEET FANCY MOSES!!!!"

Tom and the rest of the crowd whipped their heads towards Ron and Xander as they stood up from their table so fast the chairs behind them toppled over. Glenda was standing there next to them, a smile on her predatory face.

"Pay up boys," she said while holding her hand out.

Xander kept muttering 'oh god oh god oh god' to himself as he dug through his pockets. He finally pulled out a few galleons and slammed them on the table. Ron didn't say anything as he put his coins on the table, but the green tinge to his skin said everything for him.

As they both quickly made their way to the front door, Xander said, "Ron, do me a favor and poke out my other eye. Maybe that will get rid of the visual hell my brain is stuck in."

"Only if you do me next," Ron said quickly. The slammed open the door and made their way out.

The quiet crowd turned as one towards Glenda. She made her way through the pub, holding in her hand many more than five galleons. Tom stared at her in open mouthed astonishment as she sidled up to the front of the bar.

Tom asked, "What the bloody hell was that?"

"That," Glenda said as she pocketed her galleons, "was the easiest money I ever made."

And with one last great effort, she turned that rictus like grin even bigger. "I love Americans."


End file.
